Avengers: Age of Ultron
by moonswept
Summary: Hydra is growing in strength while S.H.I.E.L.D has been dissolved. The Avengers have scattered across the globe, leaving Tony Stark, Nick Fury, and Maria Hill to pick up the pieces. They know it won't be long until their enemy makes a move, and when that happens, they worry that nobody will be there to stand in their way. Post Captain America: the Winter Soldier. Action/Adventure.
1. Chapter 1: Heir to SHIELD

**This is my first ****fan fiction story on this site. I have the Avengers: Age of Ultron posted under my same username on Wattpad. Feel free to check it out there as well! I hope everybody who reads this work enjoys it. I appreciate any feedback, especially constructive criticism. I love to write my own versions of my favorite movies and TV shows. Check out my profile to find upcoming works :)**

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**Time Setting - Following the events of Captain America: the Winter Soldier**

**Genre - Action & Adventure**

**Note - All characters and background story lines used belong to Marvel Studios. This story is rated M for violence and language.**

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**Chapter One: Heir to S.H.I.E.L.D **

_**Tony Stark (Iron Man)**_

Tony Stark set the file on his glass topped desk. He leaned backwards in the foam padded office chair, rocking slightly. He rubbed at his eyes in exhaustion, then pushing them up and through his hair, sighing deeply.

He considered the manila folder, which was stamped with a black seal. An spread winged eagle; S.H.I.E.L.D's emblem.

The information contained on those leaves of paper was monumental.

It had been three months since Project Insight's cataclysmic end, as well as the disbandment of one of the most prominent national security organizations in the world.

But he could not stop spending long hours pouring over files dating back to World War II. Since the day S.H.I.E.L.D was formed to the minute everything had fallen apart, Tony had studied everything. From employee résumés to corporation transactions to operation summaries, searching for some clue, some discrepancy in the writing to signal the growth of Hydra.

But there was nothing. Only the shattering truth that it had happened right beneath their noses. The underground Nazi group had leeched power and energy from S.H.I.E.L.D since day one. They had fed them classified intelligence and resources.

Tony pinched the corner of a sheet that was peeking out of the pocket folder, crumpling it and creasing it without any real reason for doing so. Although many of the major figures had been either killed or captured, others were still out there.

Their plan had been to use the targeting systems on the Inisght Helicarriers to murder millions of future and present threats. The failure of a complete takedown of their enemies was bound to boil Hydra's blood, and it wouldn't be long until they took action again. And when that happened, Tony worried that the world would be unprepared.

Steve Rogers was traversing the planet with his new sidekick, Sam Wilson. Their hunt for the mysterious assassin, the Winter Soldier, taking them from country to country. For now, at least, they were out of the picture.

The last anybody had heard, Thor was riding double decker buses and taking tea time in London. He was not far away, nor would he be reluctant to help if it were necessary.

Banner was a ghost. S.H.I.E.L.D had held true to their promise to stop tracking his movements under the impression that he would return if he was needed. He could be anywhere, keeping his inner monster silent. Despite Fury's determination to believe that he would, Tony wasn't even sure that he would come should Hydra make a move.

As for the spies, Natasha Romanov and Clint Barton, they were eerily good at wiping themselves off the grid. After their names had been smeared over the public internet, they had fled like shadows in the sun. He had barely been able to keep tabs on them as they sunk deeper into the midst of 7 billion people. Living somehwere in northern Asia, possibly the Ukraine, they sported false identities and worked dangerous jobs.

They were wild cards; he could see them going both ways. If they thought that coming back out of hiding as Black Widow and Hawkeye would endanger their 'house of cards' lifestyle, they wouldn't. But if it didn't pose that big a problem, Tony would expect to see bullet casings dropping and arrows flying.

Fury, unfortunately, had rented a space less than five blocks away from Stark Tower. He rarely left the apartment, him being presumed dead and the constant need for attention to be kept on the monitors that sorted through any information even remotely related to Hydra.

At least that's what Maria Hill told him. The two men hadn't actually met face to face since Tony had designed the new repulsor engines, but they kept in contact through her. She now worked in the Human Resources department in his own company, separated by a little more than 10 floors.

Although both Nick and Hill both insisted that it was integral to their campaign to reorganize a purified S.H.I.E.L.D and to track Hydra, Tony suspected it was also a way to keep eyes on him.

As Fury, Hill, Natasha, Clint, and Steve had all been burned by being closely affiliated to S.H.I.E.L.D's explosion into chaos, it left nobody to head the organization.

Except him.

His dad was Howard Stark, on of the sole founders of the private division. He was now the heir to S.H.I.E.L.D, everything was left to Tony.

Fury couldn't dispute it, but he certainly did not like handing every file to a typically unpredictable billionaire. Hence Maria Hill's annoyingly close presence over his shoulder whenever she got the chance.

The corner of the slip of paper he had been toying with finally tore away. Tony flicked it off his desk and it fluttered to the ground. Pushing the file to the corner of his desk, he stood, the chair swiveling slowly behind him.

He faced the window that actually made up for an entire wall. It offered the best view to be found in New York City, the topmost floor in the building, 93 floors. Overlooking all of Manhattan and the other burrows beyond the island. The sky was still inky black, but the skyline was blazing with light. Times Square to the left, with its neons flashing endlessly. The financial district to the right, buzzy with activity even this early in the morning.

At the horizon, muted hues of pink and red rose to challenge the black and the brightness New York's lights began to dim as the dawn crept closer.

Tony turned and made his way through the towering steeples of boxes, all filled with everything S.H.I.E.L.D. Hardrives, printed reports, faded 70 year-old blueprint and new digital ones, criminal profiles. Everything. Even some extremely intricate scientific and technologic equipment of Tony's choosing all resided in his labs.

All the helicarriers, jets, and weapons had been quickly destroyed. It was better for everyone to not have those floating around for the taking.

So he was left with thousands of files, all related to a nonexistant S.H.I.E.L.D that also belonged to him. And despite everything, his Fury's research had turned up nothing on Hydra.

And as far as Iron Man was concerned, he was nothing more than a memory. The suits were gone, so was his place within the Avengers.

So when Hydra came, there would be nothing to stop them from taking what they wanted most.

_Perfection_.

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**~ Izzy**


	2. Chapter 2: Business Proposal

**So chapter two….**

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**Chapter Two: Business Proposal**

_**Tony Stark (Iron Man)**_

Tony eventually made his way down to his personal floor just as the sun began to peek above the tallest buildings in Manhattan, pouring early morning light in through the windows. It illuminated the space naturally, beams reflecting off of polished furniture and gleaming floors.

He ventured into the kitchen, searching for a drink. He reached for a wine glass, but his fingers hovered centimeters from the crystal, hesitating. In the past, when something had been on his mind - troubling him every waking moment - he'd fallen into the compulsive habit of unnecessary drinking.

Tony curled his fingers into his palm, his eyes instead flickering to the stainless steel coffee maker tucked into a corner on the granite counter. He opened a dozen different cupboards, rifling through the contents before finally finding the unopened can of Italian roast.

He removed the glass pot from its base an held it at eye level, squinting. Tony stared at the maker for a minute, then inspected every inch of the tin for instructions. How was it that he could engineer astounding technologies and discover new elements, but fixing a simple cup of coffee was next to impossible?

Down the hall, a door slammed shut. Tony jumped and looked up from the brew's label to see Pepper trot around the corner and into view.

Her saffron hair was curled into thick twists and framed her soft face. A blue wrap dress was tied around her body, in a plain and beautiful fashion. She hadn't noticed him yet, standing in the center of the kitchen, still stupidly holding an empty coffee pot.

He watched her scurry around, collecting various items from different spots around the room. A sleek phone wedged between two couch cushions. A silver name tag buried beneath a pile of magazines on the coffee table. Her white purse, hanging from a chair positioned at the oak dining table. A bluetooth device which was, for some reason, clipped to a down throw that was draped over the back of a leather love seat.

Pepper headed to the kitchen, completely absorbed by her phone and what must've been hundreds of unread emails and missed calls. She headed straight for him, head down.

"Pep!" Tony called.

Pepper stopped short and her head snapped up, her eyes widening with recognition. "Tony. I didn't know you were here." She came closer, setting her phone and bag aside. "Where did you go last night?"

Tony shrugged, still holding the pot and can. "Couldn't sleep. Work related things."

Pepper's tongue twisted inside her mouth, "This 'work' wouldn't have anything to do with Washington or S.H.I.E.L.D would it?"

"No." he lied, feeling his gut squeeze as he did it. He'd _promised_ her that it was over. No more Iron Man. No more Avengers. And it _was_ over, just not as much as she thought.

She nodded slowly, gazing at him. Then she gestured to the items in his hands, "Making coffee?"

Tony glanced down, then back up at her. "Uh, yep. Yeah, I'm making coffee." He turned around and fiddled with the machine, "Want some?"

Pepper tiptoed up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. "And risk drinking a cup full of dust and water? How about _I_ make it, so we can both live to see another day."

"I guess that would work." Tony agreed. He turned to hand her the mix and saw her smiling knowingly up at him, her sapphire eyes laughing.

She took it from him and he removed himself from the kitchen to give her space. "What work kept you away from me last night?" she asked after him, beginning to measure the roast out and

Tony took a seat at the bar and leaned forward, "Thinking of new ways to make Maria's job a living hell."

Pepper's voice was smiling. "What is it this time? Overexcited and under-qualified interns from the nearest community college? Or another ex-felon who's looking for a great job that comes with a great girl?"

He hummed in thought. "I was thinking more along the lines of back-to-back calls from anonymous benefactors. Two litters of puppies, a couple dozen boxes of the most expensive pizza in New York - all paid for in her name."

"Mr. Stark," Pepper faced him and sat back on the lip of the countertop. "if this is how you treat your employees, I'm not sure if this company is the right place for me anymore."

"Well, Miss Potts." he replied smoothly. "Technically, you're not just any employee, are you."

"You're right you know." she smirked. "I _am_ the CEO of Stark Industries, so _technically_, _you_ work for _me_. I can make your life a living hell if I wanted to."

Tony held up a finger to stop her, "But you won't."

The coffee maker emitted a steady stream of beeps and Pepper returned her attention to the task at hand. Dark, rich liquid shot from a nozzle above the opening of the clear kettle and sloshed into the confines of the glass.

Pepper found two identical 'Stark Industries' mugs and held them in one hand, waiting. When the influx of coffee slowed to a sluggish trickle, Pepper pulled the pot away from the rest of the appliance and a geyser of steam exploded into the air. She filled each cup with a generous amount of coffee and crossed the kitchen.

"Here you are Mr. Stark." she said professionally, bending across the sink to hand him his share.

Pepper kept one for herself and sipped carefully. Her nose crinkled in disgust and her eyebrows drew closer together. She coughed and made a futile attempt to cover up her reaction.

"Do you not like my coffee?" Tony accused after taking down half of the cup in one swallow.

"God, it's awful." Pepper choked, throwing her's into the sink.

Tony lunged forward, nearly toppling off his seat. "Don't waste it!"

Pepper watched with incredulity as he withdrew into sitting position, her mug in hand, and gingerly spilled what was left into his own cup. "I don't understand how you can drink that."

In reply, Tony tipped his head back and gulped some more.

"I take it back." she said. "I know exactly how you can drink that. It's because you have no taste buds."

She sauntered out of the kitchen and behind him to grab her bag for another day at work.

Tony slid off the stool and followed quickly behind her. "Okay, that hurts my feelings. Wasn't it just yesterday that you said you loved my cooking?"

"Tony." Pepper rolled her head backwards in exasperation, looking at the ceiling. "I saw the take-out bags in the trash."

"I admit to nothing." Tony remained adamant, though it was true. He had hurriedly transferred the Chinese meals onto their own dishes to make it look like he had in fact prepared a decent dinner and then stuffed the evidence deep into the trash. Not deep enough then. "But that still doesn't mean I have no taste. I have an _amazing_ sense of taste!"

Pepper put the strap of her purse over her shoulder and walked purposefully to their private elevator without answering, Tony jogging after her like a dog begging for attention.

She pressed the down arrow and the doors immediately slid open for her. She left Tony alone as she stepped inside and chose the floor where her executive office was.

"Oh, come on. Pep!" Tony whined.

"You eat microwaved meals!" she retorted as the doors closed, officially ending the argument.

Tony spun away, scowling. "That is _not_ true."

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Later that day, Tony found himself strutting into the Human Resources department. A certain worker here was expecting his daily ridicule session.

New Yorkers who sat in the reception room waiting for their job interviews stared or whispered as he passed. Tony even heard the sound of a camera shutter before the general noise of scrambling to hide the phone that hadn't been muted for the shot.

He smiled to himself. Just because he wasn't wearing a suit of red and gold didn't make him any less of a tourist attraction.

Tony stopped at the main desk and peered down at the rounded woman clicking away at the computer. "Where can I find Lora Anderson?"

"Who wants to know?" the lady asked in a husky voice without looking up.

"The person in charge of your weekly income, which can become incredibly lower if I wanted it to."

At this, her eyes zipped away from the desktop screen to lock on Tony, who was smiling expectantly back at her. "Mr. Stark! Sir, I - um. Well - Anderson you said?"

"I think that's what I said, yeah." he fired back.

Some more tapping of the keyboard. Multiple 'delete' buttons were used. Her hands were shaking. "She should be on the 23rd floor."

"_Should_." Tony repeated slapping the wooden panel of the desk twice. "That's very, very helpful. I'll just wait here until you can confirm that then."

The receptionists cheeks flushed bright red and she swallowed. She picked up the phone and almost dropped it, then called the wrong number. Tony was tempted to put his head down in his arms and pretend falling asleep to help get the message across.

"Hello. Yes, it's Mary Wilkes from Human Resources. Is Lora Anderson down there? Great, tell her that Mr. Stark is coming for a word."

Tony was out the glass doors before she could start babbling in his face with 'sorry for the waits' or 'I'm so sorries'.

He walked down the hall with his hands in his pant pockets and soaking in the whispers and stares. Arriving at his personal elevator, he punched in the code and slipped inside the bigger than necessary box.

ACDC played over the speakers, much more exciting than the coffee shop instrumentals that ran on loop in the public elevators. It took all of half a minute to slide downwards about 20 floors.

The doors opened for him and he stepped onto the 23rd floor. It was devoted entirely to conference rooms, as was every other level beneath this one. Hill was probably sitting in on an interview or hooking some college student up to a polygraph.

That had been the highlight of Tony's year, watching as none other than _Maria Hill_, Assistant Director of S.H.I.E.L.D, had shuffled into the lobby of Stark Tower, asking after a job. He had been the one to hold her interview, asking her questions that he had made mandatory, but had absolutely nothing to do with working for him.

The hallways were quiet, all the meeting rooms were soundproof and had electronically dimmed windows. Nobody could see or listen in from the outside.

Tony navigated toward the working area of this floor, in the far back corner where a few offices and a small city of cubicles were stationed. There was a hush of soft voices, shuffling of papers, and hum of computers. Women in blouses and black pencil skirts walked unevenly around in stilettos and frequented copying machines. Men in suits sharpened pencils and enjoyed their daily fix.

By the time Hill finally came, Tony had been about to leave and go pay Mary a visit again. Maybe give her a piece of his mind, as if he hadn't made it clear enough the first time.

Maria sagged noticeably when she saw him waiting there and waved her coworker ahead. Tony leaned against a desk as she approached.

"What do you want Stark?"

"You know I can fire you, right?"

She slammed a file onto the desk. Its occupant slid it toward them from beneath her fingers, watching their exchange with wide eyes.

"Stark, I swear to God, if you're here to listen in to a "Plan Your Own Funeral Service" call -"

"Would you rather me set up another speakerphone call about Lora Anderson leaving her thong in the men's dressing room at the club down the street?"

Hill's eyes flamed and she held a threatening finger in her face. "That was _not funny_!"

"Hm, that's weird. Because I swear I couldn't stop laughing."

She ran her hands over her hair, which was tied up into a regal bun. Then Maria straightened out her suit. "Trust me, later, you're going to regret this entire situation."

Tony considered. Then he shook his head. "I really don't think I will."

The former agent set her jaw. "I'm going upstairs."

"Oh really? Me too. We can go together. It'll be fun!"

"You don't have to go upstairs Stark."

"Says who?"

"Me."

"And what if I do?"

"You don't."

"What are you, nine?"

By this time, the entire office division was watching silently. Their work all but forgotten in the heat of the fight. This was probably the most entertainment they got the whole year. And Tony was feeling pretty good about the whole show.

Maria's face was red.

"Tony? Lora?" Pepper's voice came from behind them. "What's going on? You know what?" she waved her hands in a 'never mind' gesture. "I don't want to know."

Pepper stood in the hallway. Two men in pressed black suits stood stoically behind her, one carrying a briefcase, the other holding a rolled up poster under his arm.

"What can I help you with Miss Potts?" Maria asked her, smoothing out her voice.

"I was about to head into a conference with these two gentlemen. Would you mind joining me? You too, Tony."

"Oh no, I just remembered. I have an interview too." Tony made up wildly, anything to get out of a conference. Especially a conference that had to do with some guy who thought he had a world changing idea.

"No you don't." both Pepper and Maria quipped back at the same time.

"We'll all go." Hill smiled smugly at him. Tony frowned. "Oh, come on. It'll be fun!"

Sighing, Tony followed the other four back down the criss-crossing corridors to a secluded room. Pepper held her keycard over the pad by the door and then twisted the handle, letting them all inside.

Her and Maria entered first. Tony gestured for the two stony men to go in before him, maybe he could make a break for it. But they stood to the side, waiting for him before they came after.

Tony hesitated, a feeling writhing in his gut. Then he blamed in a too much coffee and strutted into the meeting hall. A long table dominated most of the room. There were no windows, only a projector screen and plasma televisions lining the walls.

He fell sullenly into one of the chairs farther down the table and propped his feet up on the table, spinning in boredom. Pepper and Maria sat closer to the door, expectant and attentive.

The men moved inside, closing the door behind them. Tony fought harder to suppress that feeling in his stomach.

"So, tell us why you're here." Pepper began. This was Tony's cue to lean his head back, close his eyes, and prepare for a good nap.

"Yeah," Tony muttered sarcastically to the underside of his eyelids. "Why don't you all enlighten us."

"I'm glad you asked." said a gruff voice.

He heard Pepper gasp and his eyes shot open, only to see the two men holding guns.

Tony dropped his feet from the table and stood up. Both pistols were trained on him. "What the hell are you doing?"

One of them chuckled and slid the safety off his weapon. "Business. We're here to make an offer."

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**~Izzy**


	3. Chapter 3: Old Industry

**So this is the second post for this chapter. Something got all screwed up the first time, it was in HTML format or something. Sorry!**

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**Chapter Three: Old Industry**

**_Tony Stark (Iron Man)_**

"Sit down Mr. Stark." ordered one of the armed men.

He was tall and lanky, slightly stooped at the shoulder. His face was lined with years, and his hair graying and thinning. His eyes were a hard flint tone. Colorless and lifeless. Perceptive and cruel. Just by looking at his appearance, Tony knew that this man understood no boundaries or regret.

"Or I'll put a bullet in your girlfriend's head." the second one threatened, leveling his pistol at Pepper, who sat stricken next to a stiff Maria.

This one spoke with a heavy German accent, a rumbling tenor deep in his throat. He had a thick and beefy build and a head of wavy blonde hair. Locks fell in front of his forehead, curling into his eyes which were an unnatural shade of blue. Almost glowing, bioluminescent. But despite being unnerving, they were unlike his companion's. His betrayed every emotion and showed little to no individual thought.

Tony sat deliberately and slowly, trying to send them the impression that Pepper didn't mean as much to him as they assumed. As long as they believed that she could be used as leverage over him, the more danger she would be in.

"So one of you is the brain and the other is the brawn." he noted, settling stiffly back into the office chair. "Got a whole mastermind - dumbass sideshow going on."

The older one nodded once, apparently satisfied that Tony would not be causing any trouble that would have need of a gun, stowed his weapon out of sight. His partner, however, didn't move his an inch away from the spot between Pepper's eyes.

"Something like that." He extended his hand. "I am Dr. Lawrence Wolfe."

Tony sat back and narrowed his eyes at his boldness. "Forgive me if I don't shake it. What are you a doctor of?"

Wolfe closed his open hand into a fist and let it drop back to his side. "Technical engineering and Physics. The same as you. You see Mr. Stark, we both have a lot in common."

Anger coiled tightly in his chest, like a snake prepared to strike. "We have nothing in common. A similar field of interest, nothing else."

"Regrettable that you have decided that I am your enemy." the doctor said, almost mournfully. "But understandable."

"Oh yeah." Tony nodded dryly. "I'm glad you can see things from my point of view."

"Tony." Pepper whispered warningly. "What is this proposal you have for us."

"Ah, yes." Wolfe clapped his hands and motioned to his muscle behind him. The blonde giant grunted and handed him the poster.

Wolfe took it and spread it out on the table, dragging pencil holders and wireless remotes from the center of the wooden surface onto the corners of the sheet to keep it from rolling into itself. From his sitting position, Tony was unable to see what was on it.

"It's a blueprint." Hill announced after a brief once over. Then she sat forward, her eyes darkening with confusion. "What kind of blueprint is this?"

"It's written in code." Wolfe ground out in frustration. "Not even our top analysts and engineers can crack it. The sequencing of numbers is unique. Each section refers to a specific material used and how to apply it to whatever this builds." Wolfe answered ruefully.

"Well do you know what it's supposed to build?" Pepper asked, leaning forward.

"Not yet, but it was designed by a certain S.H.I.E.L.D agent decades ago as a contingency plan. But of course, then they had no idea that the very people who had ordered its construction were in fact HYDRA spies."

Tony felt a cold sense of dread expand in his body. With a sickening feeling in his stomach, he stood.

The gorilla of the duo jumped into action. He snapped the gun in Tony's direction and slid a bullet into the chamber. Tony froze as he fired. He felt the wind of its passage as it grazed past his right ear. There was a crash of glass behind him as the projectile undoubtedly embedded itself into one of the many television sets hanging for the wall.

Pepper shrieked and gave an involuntary lurch toward him, a hand clapped over her mouth. Maria flinched away at the deafening crack of the shot, but she did not make a sound. Instead, in the flurry of activity, she managed to get her hands underneath the table and slide one of them down her leg.

She was wearing boots today. Tony had never known her not to carry a firearm somewhere on her person.

He finally found enough air in his lungs to breathe again. He didn't take his eyes off the shooter, who, in turn refused to take the gun off of him. He had not fired again, but his finger was twitching eagerly.

Tony held up his hands in a type of surrender. "Does your trigger happy friend have a name?" he hissed to Wolfe without looking at him.

"Corey." the doctor growled in response. "Damn you! Someone will have heard that."

"He's right. I designed these rooms to keep conversations undetectable, not to mute gunshots.

Sure enough the heard running footsteps and shouting. Somebody began pounding on the door, calling for the people on the other side.

"If you ever wanted to share that offer, now would be the time. Because our meeting is about to be crashed." Tony told him flippantly.

"Do you honestly think we didn't come here without a plan?" Wolfe scoffed. "I disabled all keycards and keypads the second after you used your's Miss Potts. Nobody can get in. Nobody will be able to get out either. I have a team in the lobby with strict orders to keep everyone inside the building using any methods necessary to do so. And if any law enforcement officers step even within five yards of the front door, the entire place goes up in flames."

Wolfe gestured to Corey and the briefcase was thrown onto the table. He opened it to reveal a foam padded interior with only one item inside. A trigger.

Tony stiffened, "Who are you?"

"You know who we are Stark." Wolfe sneered. "You know who we work for."

"I didn't expect you to make a move this soon in the game." Tony retorted to the HYDRA agent.

"In a game with no rules, expect nothing but surprises." came the swift and malicious reply.

"What do you want?" Tony asked flatly.

The doctor pointed to the schematic still flattened on the table. "I want you to build this."

Tony was near enough to see the details clearly now. He peered down at the blueprint and felt the empty feeling inside of him swell larger. "Build it yourself."

"I wonder, what would happen to those you care about if you refuse my proposition again." Wolfe mused, his eyes swirling. He was enjoying making Tony bend at his whim to do his work.

Tony avoided looking Wolfe in the eye. "What makes you think that I'll be able to do it?"

He tried to pull the bluff off. There was a chance that they might not know who the S.H.I.E.L.D agent actually was who wrote the code. Maybe they were here grasping at straws, trying to find anybody who had any connection to the security organization who would be able to complete the job.

"Because it was your father who designed it, making you the only living person who knows what it is and how to make it."

No. No, they definitely knew.

Meanwhile, Maria had steadily navigated her hand into her left boot and was carefully withdrawing. The hammering on the door continued on, drawing the attention of Corey away every so often. Hill watched him intently, waiting patiently for the right moment.

"Tell me what it is." Wolfe demanded.

"Why would I tell you? It would just ruin the surprise for when I finish it." Tony flipped the conversation on its back, now trying to waste as much time as possible.

The doctor snarled at him impatiently, his lips curling back to revealing yellowing teeth. There was a particularly loud thump from the outside of the room, as if they were trying to break down the door with a desk. Corey glanced sideways, distracted once more, and Hill seized her chance.

She whipped her gun out and fired three times. The bullets found their mark twice, once in Corey's left shoulder and once more in his upper right thigh. He bellowed a curse in German, doubling over as blood burst from the wounds and wet his suit. The third shot went wild and flew somewhere above Wolfe's towering head.

Pepper scrambled out of her seat and Tony shoved her under the table. Then he lunged across the table for Wolfe who, in the moment of panic, had sprung to the side and lost his pistol.

He glimpsed it on the floor a few feet away at the exact time the other man saw it. They scrambled over each other, trying to reach the weapon first.

He rammed his shoulder into Wolfe's head, knocking him off balance. Wolfe retaliated by kicking out at Tony, catching his chest and sending him crashing on his back into the side of the conference table. Mahogany splintered from the force and he fell to the carpet, winded.

Lifting his head, he saw Wolfe skittering drunkenly in the general direction of the fallen gun. That blow to the head had done some pretty good damage.

Ignoring the protests from his back and muscles, Tony launched himself from the floor and slammed into the doctor from behind. They both went down. Wolfe cracked his temple against the unyielding table and his body went slack, a dead weight crushing against Tony.

He rolled the unconscious man off him and dove for the free firearm. In the same second, he heard two more shots fired behind him. Both Maria and Pepper screamed, one voice in fear, the other in agony.

He scooped up the gun and whirled around, holding it in front of him. Tony's stomach dropped through the floor.

Hill was on the ground, hands curled protectively around her stomach. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her breathing was shallow and came in quick gasps. Dark blood leaked from between her fingers.

Corey held Pepper close to him, his blank eyes glazed with pain and sparking with fury. He had a meaty forearm locked over her neck, trapping her against him. She scrabbled at her captor, but it was useless. In the other hand, he maintained a steady grip on his pistol which was pointed directly at Tony's chest.

"You make one more move, you both die." the German barked, tightening his arm across Pepper's delicate neck.

He couldn't take the shot without hitting Pepper. He wouldn't be able to move fast enough to get into a better position before her neck was snapped and he was pumped full of lead.

Her wide eyes met his, begging.

Tony was smart, he knew that there was no way out of this one.

He tossed his gun down, breathing heavily. "Let her go."

"I think no." Corey replied, reaching forward with his foot and kicking the weapon underneath the table, out of reach. He winced and groaned in pain. His light blue shirt was stained scarlet from the bullet wounds, but unfortunately they did not seem to be serious.

They stared at each other, a silent face off. Except one person held all the chips, while the other had nothing.

There were more voices outside now. Tony could hear the crackle of a radio most likely belonging to the Tower's security guards. The distressed exclamations by those outside had risen in intensity during that chaos that had ensued inside the conference room. As had the bashing against the door, which shuddered violently but held it's form.

Tony wished he hadn't made every room in the building nearly impossible to get into without authorization.

He didn't have any form of communication with Jarvis. And even if he did, he wouldn't be able to contact the AI without alerting the two HYDRA agents.

Maria had sunken into unconsciousness, her arms sprawled loosely across her bloodied abdomen.

"Let me help her." Tony gestured to the injured woman, worry starting to fester him.

"She will receive medical attention as soon as you agree to construct whatever is on that blueprint."

Tony turned slowly, keeping one eye on Corey. Wolfe was laboriously rising to his feet, using the surface of the damaged table for support. He spit blood out of his mouth and smeared at the cascade coming from his nose. A grotesque bruise was forming on his forehead.

"I'll give you credit for that one, Stark." he said in a congested voice, his head bent backwards as he pinched the bridge of his nose to staunch the flow of blood. "I didn't see that coming. But HYDRA always gets what we want, and we want you to help us."

"And nobody will be harmed?" Tony confirmed.

Wolfe gave a tiny jerk of the head, which Tony assumed to be a confirmation. At least, he hoped. "Do we have a deal?" he asked, offering his free hand to him once more.

Tony shook it. Corey released Pepper who hurried away from him and knelt at Maria's side, shaking her shoulder.

"Wonderful!" he beamed, showing blood stuck between his teeth. "When you've done your job, we can all go our separate ways and forget about this whole situation."

Tony had a flash of déja-vu, back to when he was being escorted through the camp in the mountains of Afghanistan. Caches of Stark Industries weapons piled everywhere he looked, all for the purpose creating a Jericho missile from scratch.

"_When you finish, he will set you free._"

"_No he won't_."

Wolfe didn't plan on letting Tony, or Pepper, or Maria, or anybody in this building walk away from this.

"First thing's first." he crowed, removing his hand from his nose and shaking blood from his fingertips. "I would like to know what this particular Stark invention makes."

"Part of it is an outline for a satellite. The other is directions for the power source that has the potential to send electromagnetic currents to Earth's surface. They have the ability to override any technology they touch and slave them to the command of whoever controls the station."

"With that power, HYDRA would be able to own entire populations." Wolfe marveled. "We would be unstoppable."

"You would also kill millions of people. Electromagnetic fields of that size and strength would irradiate the atmosphere to a lethal amount. Whole countries would be lifeless within minutes, the world's air would become instantly deadly to anyone who inhales it." Tony described the design with disgust. "It's a weapon. I stopped making weapons years ago."

Wolfe looked giddy with excitement. He clapped Tony on the shoulder and said superiorly, "Welcome back to your old industry, Stark."

* * *

**~ Izzy**


	4. Chapter 4: Negotiating

**Same deal for this chapter as well. I changed it from HTML to a regular text document, hopefully you'll be able to read it now.**

* * *

**Chapter Four: Negotiating**

_**Tony Stark (Iron Man)**_

_The young boy sat on the vintage couch in the elegant drawing room of the house. He was fully engaged in the open computer programming book that sat on his crossed legs._

_ He had spiky black hair and deep, brown cow eyes. His face was set in profound thought, his eyebrows tugged together and his mouth twisted slightly._

_ "Tony."_

_ The boy looked up to see his father entering the room, wearing an expensive suit and his hair neatly combed back. His eyes were cold and penetrating. He held a rolled up document in his hand. The paper was crisp and new._

_ "Dad." Tony shut the hardback and stood. "Are you leaving?"_

_ "I have an important conference with some associates. Your mother is going into town." Then his eyes drifted downward, reading the title of the book. "Tony, I thought I told you that you have to grow away from just technology. There are hundreds of books upstairs. Physics, engineering, chemistry."_

_ His son gazed up at him imploringly, "I know. But I'm so good at this, and it's more interesting."_

_ Howard Stark straightened the cuffs of his suit, scowling. "Tony, you're almost 10 now."_

_ "I am 10, dad."_

_ A muscle in the father's jaw twitched once. "The world is not run by people who do what they're good at. They focus on what they're bad at, and then they excel. They become brilliant in every aspect of their studies."_

_ Howard paced around the perimeter of the room, Tony's eyes tracking his movements._

_ "For example, this is a unique blueprint." He uncurled the poster and showed his son. Instead of diagrams, there were at least one hundred rows of numbers. "This is what I'm selling to the gentlemen at my meeting tonight."_

_ "Each sequence of code represents a material or instruction to build what I've invented." Howard removed a couple pieces of paper from his inside coat pocket. He passed them over to Tony. "Your job is to memorize these numbers with the corresponding item or step. When I get back in the morning I'll want to hear you recite every single one correctly."_

_ Tony bowed his head, frustration boiling his blood. But he knew better than to speak out against a direct command. "Yes sir."_

_ "Good."_

_ His father walked out of the living room without another word, leaving the boy to himself, staring blankly at the notes left in his hand._

* * *

Tony jerked awake. He had fallen asleep with his head buried in his arms which were folded on the table. He blinked sleep from his eyes, the fluorescent lighting above blinding him. Tony groaned softly, peeling his head up and wiping his hands down his face.

He breathed deeply, trying to shake the lingering memories of the dream. Just another reason Tony didn't have that intimate father - son relationship.

It had been hours since Tony, Pepper, and Maria had been cornered inside the conference room by HYDRA's agents. Glancing at his watch, he read 1:35 a.m.

The banging against the door had long since ceased. Lawrence Wolfe had made it plainly clear to everybody waiting anxiously in the hallway outside that any continuation of attempted aid would only end in fire and smoke.

Medical supplies had been delivered through a tense exchange. Wolfe had ordered that everybody except for one person clear the floor before opening the door a sparse six inches. Gun in hand, he accepted the first aid kit as it was slipped through the narrow opening. Once it was through, he slammed the door closed once more, shutting them out from any help. All the while, Corey kept the three captives quiet and in submission by holding them at gunpoint.

Pepper had immediately accepted the package and set to work cleaning Maria's bullet wound. Hill had been drifting in and out of consciousness since a shot to the abdomen. She now lay asleep on the floor with her back pressed up against the wall. The fresh gauze wrapped around her stomach was already starting to spot with blood.

Then she had tentatively approached the burly German, with a quiet offer to help him care for his own injuries. But he had snatched the box from her arms and shoved her away from him. He then sat in the farthest corner, cursing in his native language and moaning as he tried to clean out both bullet wounds.

The only sounds now came from hushed conversation between Wolfe and Corey in low German and Pepper's tired and slow breathing next to him.

Tony rubbed his itching eyes. He was exhausted.

Spending endless hours of glancing back and forth from the blueprint in front of him to the list of materials and procedures he had been writing had put a great strain on his mind and eyes.

As had trying to recall the exact order of every number he had memorized over 30 years ago.

Tony shook his head and squinted at the annotations he had written. They were scribbled over an array of at least eight leafs of paper. Some lines were scribbled out hastily.

He read through it, thinking hard. He muttered under his breath, struggling to concentrate and confirm that what he had remembered was legitimate.

He understood now the actual reason behind why his father had given him that strange task.

He was handing over deadly information to unknown contractors. Howard had probably assumed that over the decades, they would forget how to read the code. But he couldn't have something as dangerous as that floating around out there without anybody having a clue what it was.

So he gave Tony the strict assignment to commit everything about it to memory.

After his father died, he became the last person with that secret knowledge.

Pepper shifted next to him, leaning closer. "I thought this would end." she lamented quietly.

"I don't think it will ever end, Pep." Tony whispered back. "Not for me. I can't just give up being Iron Man and expect all the threats to stop."

Pepper nodded mutely and looked down at his writing. "How do you know all of this?"

Tony scratched the side of his head. "I didn't have the best dad." he whispered simply.

Suddenly, ring of a phone sliced through the silence. Everybody jumped, even Maria stirred. The first cycle ended, then began again.

Wolfe and Corey snapped out of their stupor of shock and leapt to their feet, pulling their pistols out.

"Up!" the doctor demanded. "Whose phone is that?"

"Nobody's." Pepper defended them softly.

Wolfe crossed to her and took hold of her upper arm, yanking her to her feet. She gasped, Tony jumped into standing position.

"Search her. Then the other two."

Corey grunted and stiffly approached Pepper, his monstrous form looming over her. Instead of shrinking, she seemed to swell in size with indignation.

Tony started forward, "If you lay one hand on her-"

He never got to finish the threat. Corey's meaty fist swung out at him with surprising speed and agility and struck him solidly in the jaw. His head cracked back and he spun backwards, bracing himself against the table.

Pepper made a sound somewhere between a groan and a scream, still being restrained by Wolfe. The initial flash of lightning pain faded to a pounding ache, and Tony watched blood drip to the gleaming wooden surface of the table. Something warm flowed freely from his mouth.

He swallowed thickly and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. It came away glistening scarlet.

"Could be worse." Tony mumbled around the blood. His voice sounded muffled. "I mean, I could have two bullet holes in my body."

Corey growled, his sickly pale face contorting with rage. "You want to know what it feels like?" He yanked his pistol from the waistband of his pants menacingly. "I promise that I won't miss."

Tony put a cork in his wisecracks as he stared at the barrel of the gun. Meanwhile, the unseen phone continued to ring.

Wolfe released Pepper harshly after searching her for a cell, and paced the room, kicking aside broken furniture. She hurried to the wall, pressing her back against it as she kept an eye on the doctor and Tony.

Wolfe threw the remnants of a mutilated office chair across the room, sending it crashing into a plasma screen. The glass shattered and the TV fell with crunch, sending shards in all directions.

Pepper flinched away, shrinking further away.

Removing the chair had uncovered the conference phone which had been swept from its spot off the table. Most likely in the desperate skirmish many hours previous. Sure enough, it was the source of the ringing, a yellow light flashing from its wireless dock.

Wolfe stooped over and answered the call, turning on the speaker phone and setting the device on the table. He gestured to Corey and before Tony could react, he had pinned him to the wall next to his girlfriend, an iron arm locked around his throat. He stared at Tony, his eyes issuing a silent challenge.

_Try to speak. I dare you._

"Who is this?" Wolfe asked the other end of the line impatiently.

"The NYPD's negotiator." replied another voice. Feminine, confident.

Wolfe's eyes glittered dangerously, tendons in his neck standing out sharply. Corey's arm tightened around Tony's throat and Pepper whimpered softly, her eyes stretched wide.

"We are outside the building now. Your men are armed and have hostages in the main lobby. Nobody has tried to come in or out, as per your demands given to us by a caller inside the building. We also know that you've managed to trap Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, and Lora Anderson inside a conference room on the 23rd floor, near the rear of the level. You are also accompanied by an associate."

A flicker of hope caught fire in Tony's chest. It grew into a blazing ember as he saw the expression of fury and a touch of anxiety etch itself onto Wolfe's features.

"That information will do nothing to help you amen the situation." His voice remained impassive, though his physical appearance suggested otherwise.

"What do you want from Mr. Stark and the others with him?"

"That information is irrelevant and none of your concern." Wolfe brushed the question off smoothly. "Now I suggest you listen to me very carefully. You will keep your men out of a five yard radius of the building. If anybody steps into that circle or if anybody attempts to leave it, instead of a hostage situation, you'll have about 1,000 dead bodies and a lot of fire and smoke."

"I understand." the woman speaker affirmed, her voice never wavering, though the threat was anything but empty. That was her job. "Will you tell me your name? And your companion's as well?"

"Lawrence Wolfe. Corey Glauner." he responded without hesitation.

Tony was taken aback at his willingly compliance, until he realized that it was more a statement than anything else.

With their names, it would be much easier for the police to gather information and plan. A dangerous move. But it was just a display of Wolfe's confidence that they would get away with their stunt, no matter what the odds. Which didn't bode well for him, Pepper, and Hill. His smoldering coal of hope was dimming.

"Thank you Mr. Wolfe. All that we need now is proof of life from your three captives."

"I can give you the serial code for a camera inside this room." Wolfe barely waited for her to finish request before making the suggestion. "Constant feed, plus physical descriptions of myself and Mr. Glauner."

"That would be very helpful. I'm going to stay on the line until that feed is up." she told him assertively. "What are the numbers?"

Tony watched as he rolled a chair beneath the small hanging security camera a corner. He stood precariously on top of the swivel chair and inspected the print on the back of it. As he read off the numbers to the negotiator on the phone, Tony couldn't fight down a feeling of irritation.

He knew that Wolfe knew that when the police got the video, it would be broadcasted worldwide. He would be plastered over every news channel and morning paper. Cornered and forced into submission.

Maybe this had been part of Wolfe's plan all along. To not only find somebody ho could decipher the blueprint, but to corrupt the public's faith in one of their superheroes, even though he technically didn't qualify anymore.

Wolfe finished reciting the string of identifying numbers and waited for the lady's confirmation.

"We have it." she announced after a minute or so. "Thank you for your cooperation. And to Mr. Stark, Miss Potts, and Miss Anderson. If you can hear me, I need you to stay calm. This will all be sorted out soon."

Their captor yanked the cord from its socket, abruptly ending the call. Silence weighed in.

"Well, Stark." Wolfe clapped his hands together, a hard edge in his eye that sent a feeling of foreboding through Tony's body. "Things just got a little more interesting."

* * *

**~ Izzy**


	5. Chapter 5: Better or Best

**Chapter Five: Better or Best**

_**Steve Rogers (Captain America)**_

Steve Rogers stared at his reflection in the mirror, water dripping from his face. What he saw was someone who was without a purpose. A meaning.

S.H.I.E.L.D was gone. The Avengers had unofficially disbanded. No one of them knew where the others were, except for Tony. Nobody could ever lose him.

He and Sam had set out on their search for the Winter Soldier, who happened to be his long lost friend, Bucky Barnes, some two months ago.

They's spent long weeks running down leads and hunting trails. But whenever they got close, they ran into a dead end. India, Germany, Turkey, Belize, Russia. Wherever they looked, they were just pointed in another direction.

The Winter Soldier was a myth. A ghost story.

But he did exist. Steve had fought him, been shot by him, been _rescued _by him. Bucky Barnes was still in there somewhere, lost in a world of electroshock therapy and assassination missions.

In the background, Steve heard muffled gunfire and shouted commentary from the thriller movie that Sam was watching.

Sighing, he turned away from the mirror and strode into the small living quarters that was occupied by a small television set, a springy couch, and two dingy, queen-sized beds.

He passed Sam Wilson, who was laying on his stomach with his chin cupped in both hands which were supported by his elbows. His eyes were slightly gazed over as he stared at the screen.

"Do you know how inaccurate these shows are?" he griped in monotone, his eyes remaining unfocused.

"It's why I don't watch them." Steve retorted as he crossed in front of the screen and changed the channel until it came to a World News station. "This on the other hand, is good stuff."

Wilson shook himself out of his trance and frowned at him. "I was watching something."

"No you weren't." Steve shot back easily. He walked to his own bed and unzipped his durable duffle bag. He rifled through the contents without any real goal.

They were camped out in a nondescript motel in the thick forests of Vermont, close to the border of Canada. They had arrived earlier that night from a small town in southern Africa, heavily jet lagged.

The station ended its commercial break and the anchor's animated narration flowed into the room.

"The world is still captured by the events surrounding Tony Stark in New York."

Steve groaned and rolled his head back and stared the ceiling. He shook his head in disbelief. The man couldn't do anything without the rest of humanity knowing? Just this once?

"We have received word that NYPD has formed a thick perimeter outside Stark Tower, maintaining a perfect five yard radius away from the main entrance."

That was strange. Steve spun on his heels to face the television, curious.

A video had filled the screen in place of the news anchor. It was outside of the building, obviously taken from a cell phone given the grainy quality.

It captured the police blockade that had taken up most of the street. Officers were milling around, talking into radios, checking weapons, or convening in the backs of trucks. The camera veered around, capturing the four helicopters in the sky, hovering at different heights. Then it zoomed in on the lobby, visible through glass windows. At least a dozen figures hoisted automatic rifles and were standing above civilians who were crouched, terrified, on the floor.

"What-" Sam began, sitting up.

But the news lady had started speaking again. "The New York Police Department has kept the details hushed up, but we do know that their chief negotiator has managed to contact the brains behind this hostage situation and that Tony Stark and two of his assistants, Pepper Potts and Lora Anderson, are being held in a conference room. Also, the threat has been made, that any movement inside or outside the building will result in a series of explosions."

"God." Steve whispered, dropping his running shorts onto the bed.

"Lawrence Wolfe and Corey Glauner have been confirmed as men calling the shots in the events occurring in the heart of Manhattan."

Two pictures flashed onto the screen. One was of a lean, hard faced man with balding hair. His eyes were chilling and intuitive. The other featured a grizzly, blonde man, with a vacant gaze.

"You know them?" Sam asked Steve without taking his gaze off the screen.

He barely heard the question, but he nodded numbly. "Yeah, yeah I know them. I recognize them from the HYDRA watch-list that S.H.I.E.L.D put together. Dr. Wolfe was tasked with a huge project, it was rumored to be impossible."

"Well it looks like he found a loop hole." the other man noted, getting off his bed and standing beside him. "What do you think he needs Stark for?"

Steve shook his head. "A lot of people want Tony for a lot of different things. Money, technology, power, smarts."

The woman on the screen broke away from her teleprompter abruptly, pressing a finger to her bluetooth. Then she blinked twice and reshuffled the papers in front of her, setting them to the side.

"There's been a recent development in the Stark Tower issue. Live feed is being streamed over the internet, taken directly from the security camera in the room where Stark and the others are."

The anchor disappeared again, only to be taken place by another video. This one was much better quality and portrayed the whole scene perfectly.

Too perfectly.

What once had most likely been a sleek conference table was reduced to battered and splintered wood. Papers were strewn everywhere and chairs were toppled in various places.

One of the many flat screens had the definite mark of a bullet blast, a perfect hole webbed with thousands of cracks. Another had completely fallen from its perch and lay in pieces on the ground.

The floor was stained red with blood. There were crisscrossed splatter marks on the white walls.

But Steve sought the people. He saw two figures with their backs facing the camera, their heads put together. Wolfe and Glauner.

He saw a figure huddled against a wall, laying unconscious on the carpet. Her face was turned away, but Steve would've recognized the woman anywhere. Maria Hill. It wasn't a surprise that she had been with Tony when this had happened. She had probably fought, and judging from her weak position, she had lost.

Another woman sat at the table in one of the few chairs that was still functional. Her back was straight but she gazed blankly at the wall across from her. Her strawberry colored hair was wild around her face, but that didn't make her any less beautiful. Steve had never met Pepper before, but he couldn't deny that this was her. Striking. Alert. Clever.

Beside her, Tony.

He leaned forward over the table, glaring down at a blue poster spread over its surface. His knee bounced quickly and his mouth moved. There was no sound, but Steve didn't need any.

He saw one of the men bend forward and set a pistol on the their end of the table threateningly.

Tony scowled to himself and bounced back in his chair and Steve got a first look at his face.

He looked utterly exhausted. Blood was plastered to the skin beneath his nose and mouth. In essence, he looked defeated. Something Steve didn't think he'd ever see on his face.

"It has been nearly 12 hours since they were first taken." reported the unseen woman, the image still remaining on the screen. "12 hours since outside contact, food, water. Officials are contemplating how to -"

But Steve was no longer listening. He spun to face his bag and began stuffing everything back inside that he had just taken out.

"Whoa!" Same exclaimed from behind him. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to New York."

"But we just got here!"

"Yeah. And now we're leaving." Steve said stiffly, focused on the problem at hand.

Sam came to his side. "Just like that?"

Steve straightened and threw a shirt that had somehow ended up in his duffel at him. "Just like that."

* * *

_**Natasha Romanov (Black Widow)**_

Natasha Romanov paced the street that skirted Stark Tower, contemplating.

It had been nearly two hours since she had made the first successful call to the men inside the building. Any attempt afterwards had gone immediately to the dial tone.

But the screen that the police kept in the back of the nearest SUV showed that Tony, Pepper, and Hill had not been harmed.

Any more than they already had been, at least.

Natasha and Clint had been tracking Wolfe's movements over the past weeks as they lived undercover lives. Through tedious infiltrations and high-risk spying, they had finally procured a name behind the mask of HYDRA.

Baron von Strucker.

Their intelligence had built confidence in the fact that Wolfe was his right-hand man. The guy he sent on the missions that he couldn't see to personally.

Which seemed to be happening much more frequently, as the current head of HYDRA was undergoing a massive project. Said their source. Couldn't recall what it was, however.

Natasha wasn't one to take information off the streets seriously. But when it came to HYDRA, she was determined to shoot down every rumor until she came to the one that was fact.

So, Clint and herself had marked Wolfe. His patterns, habits, anything they could get on him. He was slippery.

When they lost him in a recon in Berlin, Natasha assumed it would be a while until he resurfaced. Until they caught wind of one of his aliases being triggered at an airport in France. A one-way ticket to New York.

They eliminated some of their assets to charter a private jet across the Atlantic while under false identities of their own. Emily Hart and Robert Doyle, paid mercenaries and bounty hunters for hire.

Their skills and training as agents had helped them build a solid and believable reputation among other bands of assassins and employers. Sneaking out of Europe without blowing their cover had been child's play.

Slipping into America was a different story.

Natasha and Clint arrived in Queens only hours after Wolfe's earlier touchdown. In other countries, they could pass as a regular couple or deadly hit men. But in America, they were famed Avengers.

No matter how hard they had tried, somebody glimpsed their faces and had the bright idea to announce it to the whole airport. In the mob of people that converged on them, some eager and some angry, Natasha and Clint had barely been able to escape without too much attention.

It would only be a matter of time before Wolfe and his associates learned of their chase.

As they made their way around the city, the aim of their target's visit became blatantly clear.

News stations exploded with the story. _Stark Tower Under Tight Lockdown. Occupants Held by Unknown Assailants._

People talked animatedly into phones or waved wildly to others in the direction of the skyscraper that towered above every other, a glowing name emblazoned on the top.

Helicopters whirred in the sky above them. Emergency vehicles of all variety tore past them on the streets, sirens blaring and lights burning red and blue.

It hadn't been all that difficult to talk herself into the barricade of officers. It only took a casual inspection of a bow and a pointed glare to get their point across. The two Avengers were let in immediately and filled in.

Natasha successfully persuaded the law enforcement members to give negotiations a shot. They hadn't tried before because of the dangerously high risk.

Equipped with a headset, she dialed up the telephone in the suspected conference room.

Wolfe had answered, the background was painfully silent.

She had shaped her voice into something completely different, so it was unrecognizable. Partly so Wolfe wouldn't have the chance to identify her and partly so Tony wouldn't either. There was no sense in giving him something to hide. It was better for everyone involved to be ignorant.

They exchanged information, threats, and demands. Though she hated to admit it, Natasha had been surprised at his readily fulfilled requests in her favor. The names and the video both.

It meant utter conviction on Wolfe's part that, no matter how much information they had on him, he would always be a step ahead.

Now, she was stuck outside the building, watching armed hostiles as they milled around inside the lobby. Unable to do anything.

As of yet.

Natasha halted near the opening of a dark and abandoned alleyway, glowering. If this had been conducted by any other organization, there wouldn't have been a doubt in her mind that she and Clint could take back the building by themselves.

But this was HYDRA. If there was anything that she had learned about HYDRA in the past months, it was that they were ruthless. And were capable of integrating themselves into any environment for decades, without detection, and come out with the controlling interest.

"What's the play?"

Natasha turned and saw Clint Barton leaning against the brick wall, concealed by the shadows. She swiveled back to her original position, staring at the tower.

"There's no play. Not yet. We've got to let Wolfe make his move."

Behind her, Hawkeye sighed. "Nat, by the time he makes his next move, it'll be too late to stop it."

"Well we can't do anything now. So we wait." she quipped back, refusing to look over her shoulder at him.

He didn't reply, but she heard the soft clink of steel shafts as he rearranged the arrows inside his quiver.

New Yorkers gazed in their direction from a distance, but were not permitted to come any closer. She saw some whip their phones out and she squared her shoulders in irritation.

There was tense silence between them, but not around them.

Police and ambulance sirens wailed on, rattling her skull. There was a general din of shouts within the officers as the scrambled around, still trying to gather their bearings. Civilians hummed in conversation behind the fence that had been set up.

Clint was there at her shoulder, dressed in his leather combat vest and pants, his compact bow and quiver slung across his shoulder. His arms were crossed over his chest as he scowled past her.

"Is this about helping Tony, or about catching the bad guy?"

She glanced sideways at him, "It can't be about both?"

"You and I both know that's not how this job works." he reminded her. "You chose a side. It might be better, but there's always the best one."

"And what side did you choose?" Natasha asked softly, a breeze brushed her red hair across her lips.

Clint shrugged. "The best one." he answered simply. "But that's for you to figure out for yourself."

The better choice was catching Lawrence Wolfe. Which would ultimately play hand-in-hand with finding von Strucker.

But the best choice, Hawkeye's choice, went beyond that. Into moral battlefields. He would choose to save somebody close to him over stopping the enemy. Unlike any spy she'd ever met, Clint had standards and a code that he lived and worked by.

But she didn't. In her heart, Natasha knew, that if it came down to it, she wouldn't choose the same. If it was for the good of a larger population, the lives of a few was an adequate price to pay for the lives of many more.

So, if it meant deciding between Wolfe or Stark, she would choose the first.

She opened her mouth to deliver a reply, but a car sped around the empty corner ahead of them. A beat up looking suburban skidded to a stop in front of them.

Sam Wilson hopped out of the passenger side, fuming. "Rogers, I swear to the Lord of high. I will _never _drive through New York with you again. _Never_."

Steve clambered out from behind the wheel, ignoring the other man, and approached Natasha and Clint. He was dressed in his armored, patriotic uniform, his shield tucked over his back. He had a look of pleasant surprise on his face, on that probably matched their own.

"I wasn't expecting to see you back in town so soon." he addressed her, then extended his hand to Hawkeye. "Nice to see you, Barton."

"Steve." he returned the greeting.

"We were in the neighborhood." Natasha informed him quickly.

"If by 'in the neighborhood', you mean thousands of miles across the globe." Clint muttered, releasing Steve's hand. "Then, yeah, sure."

"He's just jet-lagged." she rolled her eyes, jerking her chin to her frowning companion.

"I don't do well in planes." Clint defended himself valiantly. Then he turned his piercing gaze onto Sam. "Who're you?"

"You may have heard of me. Sam Wilson. The Falcon." the african american introduced himself.

"Nope, can't say that I have." he retorted swiftly, with absolutely no sense of courtesy. Then he proceeded to snap, "And you'll have to change your name. We've already got one bird on this team. Hawkeye. Me."

Sam's jaw unhinged to the side slightly, staring. He took a breath, ready to unload an onslaught of arguments that would go in one of Clint's ears and shoot instantly back out the other.

But Steve interrupted. "What's the story?"

Natasha massaged the corner of her and the bridge of her nose. "Nothing so far. You've seen the news then? We have the feed on a constant stream, but nothing's happened yet."

"There are guys in the lobby." Clint gestured to Stark Tower. "And some others spread out between a couple other 80 or so floors."

Sam whistled appreciatively, craning his neck to peer to the top of the building. "So what, we each take 20?"

Clint snorted. Steve shot him an impatient look and then answered the younger man beside him. "This is HYDRA. Not a group of guys that you can just divide and conquer. Romanoff, Barton. You'll come with me. Hawkeye, do you think that you can launch a cable from an adjacent building into the Tower?"

Clint quirked his eyebrows together in a "you doubt me?" kind of expression. "Um, yes."

"The three of us will approach from that building there," he pointed to an emptied apartment complex across the street. "then break into a few floors beneath the 23rd floor. Falcon -"

"Baby bird." Clint hissed under his breath.

" - you'll get in through Stark's personal floor. Try to find a way down and eliminate any guys you meet."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Clint held his hands up. "How is he supposed to get up there? Fly?"

"Yeah." Steve replied vaguely, leaving Clint to himself with his confusion. Sam smirked at his reaction.

To their right, their was a sudden influx of exclamations and agitated movement of NYPD's finest.

"Something's happened." Natasha observed quietly.

By an unofficial command, they all ran to the nearest truck. They shoved through shoulders until they stood at the front of a crowd of officers, looking at a computer with the live feed pulled up on the monitor.

It was a foreign feeling to her. Worry and fear were not supposed to be emotions that she felt as a spy.

But as she stared, frozen, at the screen, she felt raw distress creep icily into her stomach.

"It's Stark!" a voice announced loudly from behind her, calling to his fellow officers. "He just collapsed!"

* * *

_**Tony Stark (Iron Man)**_

It started as a simple prickle in his chest.

A simple hitch in his breath. Similar to the feeling a persistent case of hiccups that refused to leave.

Then it changed to a burning sensation that spread out from his heart into his arms, down his torso, flooding his legs.

It had been over the amount of time he was supposed to go without taking the medication. A side effect from getting the arc reactor removed.

The operation had been a success, but it didn't just get rid of all problems or risk. He wasn't just all of the sudden safe. He had been seriously injured and that kind of strain was not to go unattended to.

The medicine was necessary. It kept him moving and kept his heart pumping blood in through his veins.

And because of being cornered and locked inside the conference room, he hadn't taken it when he was supposed to.

His breathing was becoming increasingly labored and difficult. Black spots danced in front of his vision. His head seemed to be floating. There was a ringing in his ears. He could feel his heart working to do its job, but it was getting harder.

His lungs squeezed and his chest contracted painfully.

He thought he heard voice calling his name. Some harsh, some panicked. But it was like he was underwater.

He couldn't respond.

He couldn't stop himself as he fell out of his chair and to his knees, taking great gulps of air through his nose and releasing through his mouth as he gripped the edge of the table.

He couldn't see anything but darkness.

He felt a hand on his back, but it was from a great distance.

The last conscious thought through Tony's head was, _Uh-oh_, before he felt himself fall forward and a wave of blackness engulfing his senses.

* * *

**~ Izzy**


	6. Chapter 6: Divine Interventions

**Chapter Six: Divine Interventions**

**_Steve Rogers (Captain America)_**

"Barton, Romanov. You're with me. We'll make our way to Stark. Wilson, you're up top. Find a way in, take out anybody who gets in your way. But be discrete. Remember, if HYDRA learns we're in, the whole building gets blasted to hell. Go!"

Steve wasted no time, jumping into action and directing the others away from the back of the van. Seeing what had just happened to Tony had rattled them; all of them.

Natasha's eyes were bright and her jaw stiff in cold fury. Clint's fingers were more restless than usual as he tapped them relentlessly against the ridges of the grip on his bow. Sam, despite never meeting Stark, looked determined and hard-pressed to do his job.

Steve was venting his shock and anger through throwing orders out to the others. He and Tony had never been particularly close. The only time they'd interacted was during Loki's siege on Earth, and the pair hadn't exactly seen eye to eye. But he wasn't about lose an Avenger because he was too late to act.

Sam split away from Steve, Clint, and Natasha as he sprinted to their parked truck, where he forced the trunk open to reveal a compact metal jetpack.

They broke through the thick hovering cloud of anxious and riled NYPD's fines and SWAT officers. A fresh bout of pandemonium swept through the surrounding personnel like the rage of an untamable wildfire. Officers barked furiously into phones and paramedics paced restlessly on the periphery, watching somebody die on a screen before their eyes, but unable to do anything about it.

The three of them left the noise and movement behind them as they sprinted across the cracked Manhattan street in the direction of the glass-windowed office building to the immediate left of Stark Tower.

Steve slammed through the front doors to emerge into a modern foyer. Potted trees with broad leaves were placed in corners and under sunlight ripe windows. The oak reception desk was abandoned, as was the rest of the building after evacuations had taken place.

Leather boots squeaked on the pristinely polished tile floor as he followed the flaming beacon in front of him that was Romanov's head. She lead the way to the stairwell and threw her entire weight, without missing a beat, at the heavy door which swung inward with a quiet groan.

They attacked the cement stairs with adrenaline fueled vigor. It wasn't until 160 steps later that Natasha's feet slowed in fatigue and Clint's rasping breaths came from behind him.

"What floor is Stark on?" Hawkeye panted.

"23." Natasha answered in voice that was painfully short of breath. "We should make our entrance on two levels below that. Only 12 more to go."

"Lord." Clint groaned in reply, his footfalls sounding more like shuffling on hard stone by the second.

Steve wrapped a gloved hand around the railing as he reached the tenth floor and swung himself around to greet the next flight. "Keep it up. I don't know how much longer Tony has. Or how long our trigger happy HYDRA friends are willing to be patient with him."

"Not all of us can be genetically modified super-ninjas who don't even break a sweat after running stairs for seven minutes." Hawkeye managed to quip between gasps.

"I'm starting to sweat a bit." Steve admitted honestly.

Clint wheezed. "Shut. Up."

Ahead of him, Natasha snorted and poured on an unexpected burst of speed, taking the steps two at a time.

They pounded upward, spinning around on landings while mentally noting the floor. The twelfth floor was left below them, and then the fifteenth, and the nineteenth. Steve was more aware of passing time than he had ever been before. Every second they spent slowing down on the stairs was another second that counted toward another minute that Tony, Pepper, and Maria were left in a locked conference room with terrorists who were in control of armed explosives.

They couldn't afford to slow down. The civilians in that building couldn't afford for them to slow down. _Tony_ couldn't afford for them to slow down.

It took more time than Steve would've cared for, but they finally exploded through the metal door on the 21st level. Natasha put her hands behind her head to help her lungs expand and Clint stooped over and propped his hands on his bent knees.

Steve was barely winded and he spun around, soaking in every detail of their position. He ran to a wall of windows across the broad room, dodging through a labyrinth of cubicles and vaulting over printers and copy machines.

He pressed a hand against the glass and peered downward to the streets below. He got a greater appreciation of the sheer size of the crowd that had migrated outside the Tower. A densely packed swarm of New Yorkers gawked from behind the police barricades and gradually thinned out to incoming stragglers. Inside the fences, black dots scurried from car to car.

Looking up again, Steve saw the helicopters as they circled above the skyscraper. Three of them bore law enforcement identification and the other broadcasted the insignia of a local news station.

He could also just catch the scarce cloud of thin smoke, in the precise trail of two small engines. The Falcon had made it up.

Clint appeared to his right, his keen eyes flicking between Stark Tower and where they stood, judging the distance with incredible accuracy.

"You can make it, right?" Steve asked once more.

Hawkeye removed a single arrow from his quiver and strung it through his travel modified bow. "Cap, never ask me that again."

Steve reached over his shoulder and unfastened the straps that kept his shield secured to his back. He slipped his arm into the leather buckles on the curved underside, relishing the ring of steel.

Captain America turned sideways and whipped his arm to the right. As the sheet of glass shattered and the shards sprayed and fell, he ducked his head away, nodding to Clint to take his place in front of the open space.

He moved into position, squaring his chest to the side and spreading his feet a little more than shoulder width apart. Hawkeye pulled his bow up and tugged the drawstring back until his hooked thumb grazed his cheek. He let the projectile fly without a second glance at his target, a small strip of stone, not even one foot thick, directly across from them. The second the arrow was released, the metal tip extended into a serrated, claw-like hook.

It punctured through the opposite building with ease and showed no sign of slipping. Hawkeye smirked to himself and glanced sideways at Steve.

"Never ask, got it." Steve surrendered.

Clint plucked the cable that had extended away from a compartment in his bow and remained attached to the shaft that was embedded in the Tower. The sturdy rope came away from the bow and he tied it off on a stationary object further into their office building.

"Boys first." Natasha offered.

Steve looked once more at the rope that spanned the distance between the two buildings. He noted its downward slant and slid his shield a bit down his arm so his hand was looped through the first strap, freeing the second one. Wind whistled through the jagged opening of the broken window and ruffled through Steve's spiked hair.

He took a deep breath before leaping out of the window and to the side of the black cable. As he dropped towards it, he held his shield over the top with his free arm directly beneath it.

When the metal rim connected with the rope, Steve's hand shot into the unoccupied strap, trapping the cable between both of his arms. The shield grated over the line as a makeshift grappling hook. His legs dangled in empty air over the cement ground nearly 250 feet below. He slid closer and closer to Stark Tower until he stretched his feet out to cushion the impact like shocks on a bike.

He shifted his body weight so he swayed like a pendulum until his feet came high enough so it was possible to smash through the window. Steve tucked his knees to his chest and coiled his muscles. When he swung back around, he thrust his legs out and glass disintegrated around him again. Splinters brushed past his face and snagged in his hair, but he managed to hook his foot around a solid anchor.

Steve dropped a hand from one the buckles and used it to help pull himself up. He rolled onto the carpet and rose fluidly to his knees, shield properly in place once more. His eyes flicked around, searching for HYDRA agents in view. There were none.

Captain America stood, and brushed clear daggers from the top of his head. He turned around and motioned silently to the waiting Clint and Natasha. He didn't stick around to watch how they tightroped across the alley, and instead crept through the rows of desks and filing cabinets.

The atmosphere of disaster hung like an impenetrable cloud over the Tower. It filled every corner and filtered under every closed door. It was stifling and unshakable, like a lingering nightmare. When you couldn't recall the details, but vividly remember the suffocating terror.

The sound of ruffling paper shook Steve from his concentration and he froze in a crouch. He looked over his shoulder at the two spies who were farther behind him and gestured for them to stop. Barton adjusted his grip on his bow and Romanov raised her dual pistols.

Steve gathered himself and darted silently to edge of the closest filing cabinet and pressed himself against it. Cold steel brushed against his temple as he peered cautiously around the corner.

Instead of armed soldiers, there were at least two dozen Stark Enterprises employees huddled together in a hushed group, all seated on the ground. A folder of papers was strewn on the carpet beneath a sleek, dark oak desk. The sound of it falling was most likely the noise that had tipped him off.

Hefting his patriotic shield in a much less menacing fashion, Steve stepped out from behind his hiding spot and approached the petrified people.

There was a collective jump of fear and a few choked shrieks of alarm. Still, he moved forward his open arm held out in a placating gesture, like one would do to soothe a spooked animal.

Finally, the surprise ebbed away and most eyes turned on him with hope and wonder. Murmurs of "Captain America" and "Avengers" rose softly through the ruffled group.

Behind him, Hawkeye and Natasha rounded the corner. They too lowered their weapons and relaxed when they saw roughly 24 pairs of wide eyes staring blankly at them.

"Is anybody hurt?" Captain America asked calmly. He was answered by quick head shakes and a few muttered words of negation.

One man stood up and pointed to the ceiling above. "Two guys just left, they come around every 20 minutes or so after patrolling this floor and the one above us."

Romanov stepped forward, her eyes demanding. "What can you tell us about the 23rd floor."

"The one Stark's on? I work on this level, but she slipped down here from her office on that floor without getting caught." he waved a petite blonde over.

She got up shakily and smoothed out her pencil skirt. Strands of hair fell from what used to be a tight fishtail braid down her back. Her emerald green eyes were haunted. Her stainless steel name tag was crooked on her wrinkled blouse, and read Elaine.

"Yeah, yeah I came from up there. I was able to sneak away when the guards were trying to force everybody out of the halls and conference rooms. Anybody who's still up there is gathered together in the back office." her voice was low and trembled a bit.

"How many men do you remember seeing?" Steve questioned her, his mind still furiously ticking down seconds.

"I -" Elaine rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hands and drew in a steadying breath. "A lot. I remember seeing about three outside the conference room. About five or so walking around the halls. There were two guarding everybody else."

"Wait," Clint waved a hand, "go back. You've seen the conference room?"

Elaine looked at him plaintively and gave a quick nod in confirmation. "I was walking by with a client on our way to a meeting when we heard the first shots, then some guys with these huge guns were running toward us and shouting."

Steve and Natasha shared a look. "Elaine, would you mind coming with us. We need to find that room as quickly as possible."

He phrased the question as easily as he could, almost like he was asking for the time. What they were asking her to do was something that, judging by her expressionism, was way out of her comfort zone.

The young woman's mouth opened and closed silently and a battle waged inside of her. "Can't I just give you the room number?" she offered timidly.

"If you can remember." Natasha replied. "But your episodic memory functions much better under stress than your explicit memory. So guiding us to the room will more accurate than you trying to remember a number under pressure. The odds of it being wrong go up exponentially. We don't have time for you to be wrong about this."

Steve wanted to glare daggers at her. They had very different views of how to approach somebody to elicit their help. There was presenting a choice, or there was going to the analytical extreme to help force a decision that would benefit them. But he couldn't argue Romanov's last statement.

"I'll show you." Elaine whispered apprehensively.

"Stay close to us and listen, and you'll be all right. We won't let anything happen to you." Captain America promised. "Come on."

"Thank God for this wonderful invention that we call stairs." Clint muttered mutinously as the began moving again in the direction of another stairway.

Elaine trotted nervously behind, glancing back and the heads of colleagues that watched them retreat away. Steve held the door for Hawkeye and Widow to pass, and then looked into Elaine's eyes.

"Promise." he repeated comfortingly.

She blinked once at him and said nothing, but some of the tension in her lithe shoulders eased, and she slid past his bulky form and followed the two spies up the steps.

Steve guided the door shut so the only sound that came from the latch was a muffled click. He turned and readjusted his shield around his arm, then ran after Elaine.

Natasha was at the front of the group, the corners of her eyes narrowed and guns held at shoulder level in front of her. She looked out of sorts dressed in casual jeans and a plain red t-shirt, but lethal nonetheless.

Barton came behind her, in his usual combat attire. His compact bow strung and held at the ready by his right thigh and a strip of protective material was secured to the underside of his forearm.

Elaine fell between him and Clint, her fists clenched at her side and her braid bouncing on the curve of her back. She was beautiful, in her own way. Her physical features were near flawless and soft. But beneath, she had a mind of logic and wit to go with her gut and let her impressions lead her.

Steve shook his head to clear it and focused on the painted '22' on the stone wall in large block letters. Nearly there.

They tiptoed up the next two flights of stairs with a constricting silence. The only sound came from the soft squeak of a boot or the pull of Clint's drawstring.

On the landing of the 23rd floor, they heard a door open beneath them and they hugged the wall. Elaine crossed her hands behind her back and closed her eyes. Romanov drew her pistols close to her chest and breathed slowly.

The heavy soles of boots scraped against the stone as the HYDRA goons lumbered down the stairs to the 21st floor. Their voices echoed loudly around the rock walls of the stairwell.

"Heard Wolfe's on the verge of pulling out. He wasn't expecting that to happen to Stark." one commented.

"Blowing the place up was always in the plan, I just don't think that he was ready to do it before Stark was finished. It should be almost done, the doctor'll be able to finish it somehow." the second one added conversationally.

"He better be able to figure it out." the first one scoffed. "Or else it's his head when von Strucker complete his project."

"I could care less if he completed it. His _projects _freak me out."

Steve looked sideways at Clint and Natasha, whose expressions probably matched his own. They glanced at him, eyes bright and thoughtful. This was a huge breakthrough for them, one step closer to finishing the puzzle that was HYDRA's leader and ultimate goal.

Another door slammed farther down and Elaine let out a short gasp that she had been holding behind the hands clapped over her mouth.

"Where does this door lead to?" Steve laid a hand on the gray door.

"It opens into a maintenance hallway that leads into the office." she breathed.

"The office where everybody is being held. Okay, we'll all go in. You wait in the hallway until you hear the all clear from one of us." he said. "You'll be fine."

Natasha opened the door slowly, Elaine grimaced as another click emitted from the clasp disengaging. Clint ducked through the entryway, then Steve, who was closely followed by their civilian guide.

They crept down the small brightly lit hallway, passing doors with humming machinery or stepping over abandoned cardboard boxes and janitorial tools.

Captain America motioned Elaine to crouch behind a large, cylindrical trashcan that stood on four small wheels. Romanov and Barton went ahead to the end of the hallway before stopping.

Steve checked once more over his shoulder at the waiting woman and then joined his fellow Avengers. He dared a peek around the corner and soaked in as many details as he could in two seconds before withdrawing.

He stuck up three fingers to represent the trio of guards he had seen walking slowly around the large office area. Then he tapped Clint's bow. Natasha's pistols would make too much of a noise and alert the other HYDRA agents. This was cleaner and stealthier.

Steve moved aside for Clint's spot at the head. The archer pulled the drawstring back and leapt forward, with him and Natasha close behind.

Stunned, the three armed men fumbled with their automatics. But it was enough. Within the space of a heartbeat, Clint had let his first arrow fly and then released two more into the bodies of the other guards.

They didn't even have the time to call for assistance, the slender shafts sinking into them without much more than quick whistle.

The workers on the ground were a different story. None made a dramatic noise, but gasps and cries wrenched themselves past their lips. Many stared at the fallen terrorists with mixed feelings of horror and relief.

Steve, Hawkeye, and Natasha eyed the hallway ahead of them for running HYDRA soldiers. None came.

The employees stared with wide eyes, wisely saying nothing. Some looked to be on the verge of panic attacks and some cheeks were wet and red.

Satisfied that the office was safe for now, Captain America whirled and retrieved Elaine from her hiding place. He lead her through the sitting crowd and past the bodies of the guards, her eyes averted.

They prowled down the broad hallway, Elaine directing Steve by pointed fingers and taps on his bicep and Clint and Romanov clearing every branch-off corridor.

There was a soft wisp of air behind him and then the thump of something landing on the ground. Steve spun, his shield raised, only to see Hawkeye disappearing down another hall a little ways behind. He reappeared, fingering the keen tip of an arrow.

"One saw me, only four more patrolling and the three outside the conference room." Hawkeye tallied, then reinserted the arrow into his full quiver.

Steve nodded to Elaine to start again, but she didn't move. Instead, she pointed to a shoot-off hallway to the right. "Go down until you reach the second corridor on the left, you'll see the guys standing outside."

"Thanks for the help." he replied softly. Then he turned to the nearest conference room and opened the door. "Stay in here and hide under the table, I'll send someone to find you when this is all over."

Elaine smiled for the first time, a simple twitch in her lips. "Good luck."

And then she was gone, vanished behind a sheet of clouded glass. Steve glanced sideways and caught Natasha eyeing him knowingly.

"What?"

"You know what." she quipped back cheekily and turned out of sight into the hallway that Elaine had directed.

Hawkeye stood at Steve's shoulder and stared after her. "I don't know what."

Steve forced himself away from the unprotected door and entered the hall to his right. Romanov was already waiting for them at the second passage to the left, pistols held at the ready.

Barton loaded armed his bow again and took stance, waiting for Cap's word. He nodded to the other man and they exploded from behind the corner.

Three armed men stood stoically at the end of the hall, just before a single window. They jumped to attention and readied their weapons, but not before Clint downed two of them, each with an arrow protruding from their necks.

Natasha fired once and the remained guard retaliated. An onslaught of bullets rained down on them and Steve sprinted to the front, shield held protectively before him. Metal ricocheted off of it with harmless pings, and he saw gold bullet casings roll on the ground.

The HYRDA agent stopped to reload and Steve seized his opportunity. He wrapped an arm around the man's neck and flipped him over his back and into the glass door of the room he had been guarding.

Glass splintered over him for the third time that day and Captain America tossed the unconscious guard aside. Clint and Natasha rushed past him and into the conference room, where two unfamiliar men were scrambling for weapons.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Romanov snarled, the barrels of her guns trained on Dr. Wolfe, who had made a desperate lunge for a brief case on the battered table.

Barton's attention never strayed from the other man, Corey Glauner, who was hunched and fuming, only feet away from a glock that lay on the ground.

The threats subdued, Steve gazed around wildly for the three people they had come to rescue.

Maria Hill was groaning to his right. She had propped herself up on the blood spattered wall, her eyes half-opened and her hands putting pressure over the red stained gauze wrapped around her abdomen.

A strawberry blonde haired woman in a beautiful wrap dress was kneeling on the ground. Pepper Potts. Which meant that she was bent over...

Confident that Barton and Romanov could hold their leverage over Wolfe and Glauner, Steve raced to her side.

"Miss Potts?" he crouched beside her, laying a hand on her shaking shoulder.

She looked at him her tired sapphire eyes were filled with deep fear. "We've been in here since yesterday, and Tony hasn't been able to get to his medicine. And he collapsed half an hour ago and he won't wake up!"

Steve didn't really grasp everything she'd hurriedly told him, something about medicine. But what he knew is that Stark was unconscious on his back, with the life draining out of him. His hands hovered uselessly and he finally decided that there was nothing he could do.

"We'll take care of this and get a medical team up here. The police are outside and they've got eyes in this room. Once they've seen that Wolfe can't blow up the Tower, they'll start to eliminate the guards in the lobby and the other floors."

But Pepper wasn't listening anymore. She was holding Tony's limp hand in her's and speaking gently to him, as if it would get him back. "Wake up. Please, wake up. Steve's here. And Natasha and Clint. Please, just open your eyes."

Captain America stood and faced Lawrence Wolfe, whose hands were above his head. But despite his ruined operation, he was grinning at the pain around him.

"You're a doctor," Steve snapped, "what's wrong with him."

Wolfe tilted his head in consideration, "My professional opinion? Cardiac arrest. After going through something like that off and on for 30 minutes, I'm afraid he doesn't have long. Should've known that my only chance at getting my job done came with an expiration date."

Steve clenched his jaw and turned his attention to Corey Glauner. He was pale faced with a cold sweat shining on his brow. He had a sickly pallor to his skin and his dull blue eyes were unfocused. Gauze was taped to his shoulder and upper thigh, but the fabric had been soaked through with scarlet.

"Your friend doesn't look so good." he noted.

Wolfe shrugged, "Neither does yours."

But to confirm Steve's inference, the bigger German man stumbled backwards into an office chair.

"Corey is one of my commander's creations. He's genetically engineered to heal himself, but this is one of his more earlier attempts."

"Von Strucker." Natasha whipped the name out into the open confidently. "Yeah, we know. Thanks for helping us solve the mystery as to what he's been doing."

Dr. Wolfe scowled at her, the tips of his dirty teeth showing. "You'll learn no more from me."

"What happens if your pet gorilla _doesn't _heal himself?" Clint asked curiously, as if he hadn't heard the part about answering no more questions.

But for some reason, Wolfe brightened and seemed inclined to share this tidbit of information. "He'll explode. And release all the unstable energy that was used in creating him."

Corey doubled over with a groan, and he ripped the bandage from the left side of his chest. Blood dripped from the raw bullet wound and was absorbed by the already ruined carpet. Clint looked taken aback and he stepped away, but didn't lower his bow.

"Yeah, you might want to help him out." he suggested.

"And why -" Wolfe began to say, but he was cut off by a scream.

Steve lurched and looked down. Pepper was breathing unevenly, her fingers fluttering uncontrollably around Tony's slack face.

"He's - he's not breathing!"

He stooped beside her, all thought for Wolfe and another potential bomb threat forgotten. Steve moved her fiercely trembling hands aside and pressed his fingers firmly against Tony's throat.

He didn't expect much, maybe a stutter or a thready beat against his fingers. But there was nothing. Panic mounting, he repositioned his fingers. Still, nothing.

"I don't have a pulse." Steve muttered, blinking. "I don't have a pulse!" he shouted in a louder voice, looking up and over his shoulder at his companions.

Clint did nothing, torn between watching a worsening enemy writhe in his chair and running to help Steve. Natasha's mouth was parted slightly and her eyes were blank with shock. Her hands dipped slightly and she took half a step towards them, then stopped when Wolfe made a move too.

She raised her pistols again, her eyes hard with fresh fury that Steve had never seen before. "I swear, I swear to God. If he doesn't get out of this -"

"You'll what?" Wolfe mocked, laughing. "S.H.I.E.L.D is gone. All of your resources and leaders have vanished. So what will you do to me?"

Steve looked back down at Stark, Pepper frantic beside him. For the first time since confronting the Winter Soldier, one of his oldest friends, on board one of the Insight Helicarriers, he had no idea what to do next.

Then Glauner did it for him. He bellowed in complete agony and put his head in his hands. A strange blue aura surrounded him, coming off from his skin, emitting from his mouth.

Wolfe stared, paralyzed, as his henchman glowed brighter and brighter. Then he overcame his surprise enough to leap away and scramble under what was left of the table.

"He's tipping!" Romanov shouted, "Get down!"

She and Barton dove to the ground in the same instant that Steve raised his shield above him and Pepper.

Glauner's cries stopped and there was utter silence before a roaring and crackling filled Steve's ears and a blue field of energy expanded and then enveloped the entire room.

* * *

**~ Izzy**


	7. Chapter 7: The Lazarus Effect

**Chapter Six: The Lazarus Effect**

_**Steve Rogers (Captain America)**_

The first thing Steve noticed when he finally came to, was the persistent buzzing in his head. It took him some time to gather his bearings, and when he opened his eyes, light exploded in his vision. The ceiling, or what was left of it, warped and twisted and the inside of his ears rang.

Groaning, he slowly rolled onto his stomach and braced his hands beneath himself. As he rose to his feet, joints grated uncomfortably against each other and his stiff muscles stretched and pulled.

What used to be a private and polished conference room was now completely unrecognizable. The blast had demolished all four walls, revealing the additional rooms that had previously hid behind them.

But the damage didn't stop there. The tables in adjoining meeting rooms were splintered, the walls ripped, and the television sets shattered. Gaping holes tarnished the ceiling, exposing bars of rebar and showering rock onto the floor below.

The furthest wall of the conference room to Steve's right had disintegrated, streaming sunlight and fresh, clear air from the world outside into the dusty and dim building.

Realizing he was the first one to regain consciousness, Steve took inventory of the others. At his feet, Pepper lay partially buried beneath plaster, cement, and wood. Apart from superficial scrapes and bruises, she looked relatively unhurt.

Stepping carefully over large chunks of rubble, Steve maneuvered over to where Barton and Romanov had last been standing.

Looking down, he saw a flash of scarlet and immediately recognized the back of Natasha's head. Bending, he cleared as much stone as he could from her back. When he had finished, he gently rolled her to her back and tilted her chin up so more air would get into her system easier. Dark blood soaked her scalp and trailed down the side of her head. After a brief check, he was reassured that she would be fine left alone for a while.

He then busied himself by shifting around through the debris for Hawkeye and Maria. He found Clint first, unconscious and bleeding heavily from a gash above his right eyebrow. At first, Steve was alarmed, but reminded himself that head wounds tended to bleed a lot, even if the injury wasn't serious.

Steve found Agent Hill shortly thereafter, crowded up against what was left of the wall she had previously been leaning against. As he inspected her gunshot wound, poking cautiously around the soaked bandage, she mumble incoherently. Steve froze what he was doing and moved to her head.

"Ma'am?" he asked anxiously. "Agent Hill, can you hear me?"

Her eyelids fluttered open to reveal shockingly dilated pupils and a wide and disoriented gaze. She blinked hard, "Steve?"

"Yeah, I'm here." he acknowledged, brushing looses pebbles from the carpet around her face. "How do you feel?"

"Like shit." she deadpanned. Hill looked around hazily and tried to prop herself upright, a strangled cry filling her throat as she worked the muscles in her abdomen.

"Hey, hey." Steve placed a restraining, yet comforting hand on her shoulder, pushing her softly back to the ground. "Don't try to move, just relax."

He placed the back of his hand against her forehead, trying to read her body temperature. Steve was worried as the skin pressed against his hand came back hot and feverish. It had been one too many hours without medical attention after she had been shot. It was a miracle that the bullet hadn't done more damage, but she needed to see a hospital quickly.

Maria closed her eyes against the pain. "How's Stark?"

Steve's mouth went dry and he averted his eyes from her face. "He - uh, well he didn't make it Ma'am."

"What?" her eyes shot open and she struggled to brace her elbows beneath her. She hissed in pain, but otherwise ignored the agony she was probably feeling. "What happened? I thought you made it in time!"

He sighed heavily, a cold stone of disappointment and grief settling in his stomach. "I thought we did too."

She swallowed, "How -"

But Steve didn't want to hear the rest of her question. "Cardiac Arrest." And he left it at that. Thankfully, Maria did, too.

They stayed silent for a bit, listening to the turmoil outside. The sirens and the helicopters, the buzz of people below. Maria breathing deeply and slowly, Steve lost to the swirling hurricane of thoughts inside his head. No matter how hard he tried, his eyes kept drifting over to the area that he had been kneeling at Tony's side. He just couldn't bring himself to go over.

He cleared his throat, "I'm going to make sure that Wolfe won't sneak away. Promise to stay alive?"

Agent Hill levered herself back down to the floor, anger burning in her eyes as she glared at the spot that the HYDRA agent had dove to avoid the blast caused by Corey Glauner. "Promise to kick him in the head for me?"

The hint of a smile that twitched at Steve's lips felt heavy and fake, but he managed it anyways. "Of course."

He crossed the room, stepping over rubble and ducking under iron support beams. There was no sign of Glauner, or whatever might've been left of him. Nothing. Just, gone. But his boss was a different story.

The other man was curled beneath the splintered legs of the mahogany table, his black suit jacket shredded by shrapnel and blood leaking through the expensive fabric. He was pretty much out of it, just as much as anybody else in the room. Steve checked to make sure that the doctor was alive. He didn't want the man who had threatened hundreds of people and been the cause of the death of an Avenger to get out of the pain that was facing him.

Once he had made sure that the bastard still had a pulse, he aimed a well-powered kick at his head. Wolfe didn't even twitch as his head snapped viciously to the side.

Rage boiled inside of him and he could stop his gaze from landing on the tip of an expensive boot that poked through the rubble. Moving past Wolfe, he approached Tony in a dreamlike motion.

He crouched by Tony's head, and let his emotion stew in his gut. It would be useful to him later, when he was making every last HYDRA agent pay for the death and terror they had caused.

Tony's eyes were closed, his face smooth. Steve would've never thought it possible to see him like that. He was always animated, whether in explaining a new discovery, arguing with the team, or teasing Steve for his technophobia.

He looked away towards where Pepper lay, still unconscious, and felt his heart wrench for her. Steve sighed heavily, and was just about to move when Tony's eyes shot open.

Wide, dark, and blank. He coughed, spasms wracking his shoulders, and jerked onto his side, very much alive.

Steve knelt forward, stunned. He reached a hesitant hand out toward his friend's back. "Stark?" "Steve?"

Captain America jumped and whirled towards the voice. A dazed Pepper was struggling to sit up, her unfocused eyes trying to collect the picture of what was around her. Then her vision cleared and her gaze found Steve kneeling in a tense position beside Tony, who was slumped on his side, breathing shallow.

The confusion lifted from her face, only to make room for the fear. "Oh my God. Steve, what's wrong with him?"

Pepper scrambled hurriedly to her feet and swayed. She clapped a hand to her forehead and screwed her eyes shut, taking short gasps of air through her teeth.

"Miss Potts?" Steve, torn between staying at Stark's side or helping his girlfriend, made to move to her. But she waved him down and stumbled through the rubble to drop to her knees Tony's side.

"Tony? Tony can you hear me?" she pleaded with him. He groaned softly in response.

In a stupor, Steve rolled Stark onto his back and thrust two fingers onto the left side of his neck. His pulse beat erratically against the pads of his fingers, which both filled Steve with relief and dread at the same time.

Tony Stark was alive, but running out of time.

"Talk to him, try to get him to open his eyes." Steve ordered Pepper. He shot to his feet and looked around wildly, trying to formulate a plan for getting Tony downstairs and into the hands of the EMTs. But he couldn't imagine one scenario where they would have enough time. They were already running on borrowed minutes as it was.

"Where are you going?" Pepper asked tightly, her voice wavering on the border of sheer panic.

"I'm going to try and wave down a chopper and see if we can get Tony into it from this level." Steve didn't explain further, but hurtled to retrieve his partially buried shield, then hurriedly ducked and weaved through the obstacle course of destruction.

He navigated through the remains of the neighboring conference room until he came to the fractured exterior wall. Steve punched through the concrete relentlessly, widening the hole until two full grown men could stand side by side comfortably in it. Shards of rock rained on his face and dust made his eyes water, but the sunlight bathed his skin in warmth and the fresh air cleared his murky lungs.

He gripped a rusty stretch of rebar that snaked through the deteriorated stone and leaned into open air through the gap. Hundreds of feet below him, Steve saw clusters of New Yorkers and law enforcement alike.

Steve searched the air above him. Three helicopter hovered at various altitudes. The one closest was painted all black and bore the local police force seal. The next one wasn't as close in proximity to the Tower, but it was obviously a Medivac chopper. The simple red cross was branded on the white paint. The final helicopter was none of Steve's concern. It was simply there to capture footage and sending it flying across the globe; a news station.

Using the polished metal of his shield, Steve tilted it into the oncoming rays of the mid morning sun, refracting the light at the police chopper.

The aircraft turned in the air and dropped closer to his level. The rotors sliced through the air, sweeping great gusts of wind across his body. Soot rose into the air, and Steve protected his eyes from flying bits of debris. Squinting through the crook of his elbow, he waved them closer.

Steve backed away from the opening as the helicopter drew closer. When it was within a safe range, the door swung open to reveal a heavily armored task force. They leaped easily from the hovering chopper, landing one after the other in the damaged conference room.

When Steve stood in the company of five officers, one of them shouted over the noise of the wind. "We've got control of the lobby. SWAT teams are making their way up to our location. Any casualties?"

Captain America lead them into the conference room where Pepper was crouched over a basically unresponsive Tony. He saw movement further into what was left of the room and saw Hawkeye rising unsteadily to his feet and looking around foggily.

"We've got Stark with cardiac arrest and his assistant with a gunshot wound to the stomach. The rest of us just have a few bumps and bruises. But those two don't have time to make it downstairs by foot. Can you fly them out of here?"

The SWAT officer who had spoken to him before gestured to the man beside him. "Lawson, get in contact with that Med chopper. Tell them we've got two criticals and need immediate extraction."

The officer nodded and moved away to radio to the helicopter still outside.

It took a long time, too long, to direct the Medivac chopper into position outside the building and then get all four EMTs, each pair laden with a backboard, safely onto the level.

Two managed to trip over to Maria's unconscious figure, but Steve remained at Pepper's shoulder as the dropped their equipment besides Tony.

One swept the carpet relatively free of large blocks of cement or stakes of the wooden table and laid the backboard out. It took three of them, both paramedics and Steve, to maneuver Stark's listless body onto the orange stretcher.

Immediately, the began speaking in rapid fire medical jargon. Steve had trouble following the jumpy conversation between the two, but he understood the gist. Tony was in trouble.

"Going into shock."

"Contractions are irregular. Get me a Coumadin."

"Vitals low."

"Looks like post V-fib. Get him going on the oxygen and we'll get out of here."

One fit an oxygen mask over Tony's nose and mouth, and was speaking to him. Asking him what his name was, if he could hear him, if he could open his eyes.

Once, for half a second, Tony opened his eyes again. For the most part, they were blank and unrecognizable, but they flashed with a spark of Stark's old personality. Defiant, irritated, and fiercely independent. Then his brown irises rolled back into his head and the EMTs tightened the velcro straps around his wrists and ankles.

Steve thought he must've imagined it, nobody in his position could possibly understand what was happening around him. But at his side, Pepper clapped a hand over her mouth, but her misty eyes smiled.

The medics crouched at either end of the backboard and looped their hands through the handles. "Three, two, one. Lift."

In a practiced movement, they rose in unison, the stretcher at an even height between them. They tiptoed quickly but carefully back through the rubble, with Steve sometimes pointing out obstacles or placing a steady hand on the backboard so it remained even.

The SWAT officers waited edgily by the broken wall. A cuffed Doctor Wolfe was propped up limply against the crumbling wall.

Steve swallowed his disgust and pulled Pepper off to the side as they watched the policemen help the paramedics transport their precious cargo from the 21st floor of Stark Tower into the ever hovering Medivac chopper. First went Hill, then Tony.

Then the helicopter was gone.

The SWAT officers bustled around, three disappearing down what remained of the hallway, guns at the ready and the other two staying behind to guard the Doctor. They spoke into the radios that were fastened to their vests, different teams conveying information.

The lobby was secure. The HYDRA agents were either in custody or dead. Entry teams were sweeping the floors from bottom to top, shining a light into every vent and every closet for any hiding HYDRA operatives. The bombs had been found and effectively disposed of by an expert bomb squad. They had been fastened to the building supports in the underground levels, designed to bring the entire tower crashing to the ground.

Only two casualties, not including Corey Glauner. A man who had the futile courage to fight back and a woman who was shot in the very beginning of the hostile takeover.

And the Avengers had Dr. Lawrence Wolfe.

Natasha and Clint sat side by side with their backs against the wall, talking quietly, dried blood painted to their faces.

Falcon found them at one point and stood off to his own at one side, sensing the others' need to marvel by themselves. He looked around at the destruction and blood silently, and shook his head in wonder.

Steve stayed close by Pepper. They stood in the gaping hole that he had torn in the side of Stark Tower, staring openly down the streets of New York. Blue and red police vehicle lights flashed, red and yellow came from the firetrucks, and the red and white emitted from the parked ambulances.

The whine of various sirens rose in the air, but was nothing but muted background noise by the time it reached their deaf ears hundreds of feet above. Floods of people gathered on street corners or pretentiously meandering closer to the activity at the base of the Tower.

Hostages emptied onto the streets by the dozens, each streaming out of the front doors as fast as their weak legs could carry them. Medical and police teams would eventually arrive at their position, but until then, they could wait.

Steve shifted, his thoughts drifting over the jumbled and chaotic emotions and events of the day. He glanced down at the woman beside him. She looked exhausted and utterly hollow. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay." she replied softly.

Silence. "Tony will be fine. He's the most stubborn man I've ever met."

Pepper stared down the New York skyline stoically, but tears filled her unstable eyes. Her shoulders began to shake and she pressed a hand over her mouth and she blinked hard. Fat drops fell from her eyes and rolled down her dirty cheeks, tracing tracks through the layers of dust.

Steve stared, trying to decide what to do. He mentally kicked himself for bringing up Stark when he didn't actually know that he would be okay. But what else could he have said?

Pepper seemed like the kind of person who just needed to let her emotions tumble out of her, and to endure the pain of it by herself. She didn't accept comfort easily, or want to talk.

So Steve was simply a presence, to let her know that she wasn't alone. That when the world comes falling down, people are by her side.

Then her lips twitched in a watery smile and her eyes glistened. "He was there. I saw him come back. I saw it in his eyes."

Steve squared his shoulders and traced the flight of a lone pigeon over the adjacent building. "I know, Miss Potts. I saw it too."

* * *

**~ Izzy**


End file.
